


Battle Stations

by claro



Series: What we could have been [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 03:42:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16054802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claro/pseuds/claro





	Battle Stations

During the first twenty five years of his life life Bill Murray was fearless. He watched horror movies alone in the dark, he watched lives born and lost, he made his way home every day though central London on his own. But he was now tuned to his family - he knew when the door opened if it an annoyed Sherlock or a frightened Allegra. He knew what the shouts of ‘Dad!’ meant depending which part of the house they came from and who’s voice they were. Certain sounds would jerk him wide awake out of even the deepest of sleeps - the bedroom door opening, a muffled sob from one of his children, the click of a safety catch (happened far too often for Bill’s liking), the sound of the ‘family ringtone’ on his phone (the theme from the Godfather as set by Angus).

And then…

‘Daaaaaddddd!!!!!!’

He took the stairs three at a time to meet Hamish, his hands covered in blood and tears streaming down his face.

‘I can’t wake her up….there’s…blood and she..won’t wake up.’

Bill’s professional training kicked in and he moved past his son to the bedroom where the bed was stained red.

‘What happened?’ he asked briskly as he pulled back the covers.

‘She…she….uh….she had some cramps….she’s been having them for a couple of days… but….uh….she took a couple of paracetamol and went to bed early. When I went in….it was just…blood everywhere….she wouldn’t wake up! She won’t wake up, Daddy!’

Bill nodded to show he had heard and then went back to his niece. He checked her pulse, far far too slow. 

‘Hamish,’ he said in his ‘business’ voice, ‘I need you to get my green bag from under the sink and I need you to call an ambulance.’

‘What-’

‘Tell them Mycroft Holmes needs it!’

#

‘Someone used my name to….’

‘Shut up!’ Bill snapped and hung up on Mycroft as Beatrice was lifted into the back of the ambulance.

And then Sherlock saw something he rarely saw. Gone was funny, easy going man who made him toast, argued about the telly and always seemed to have at least one of their kids swinging off his legs, singing rude songs and smiling, always smiling . Now, in his place was a focused, serious man, his sleeves pushed up and his hands stained with blood.

Sherlock stood back, one hand on his swollen belly.

‘Placental abruption, looks a full. Been bleeding out for at least an hour. Seven months. First pregnancy. No other issues, injuries or allergies. Totally non responsive, pulse is slow no detectable movement from the baby. ’

‘Perhaps-’

‘I’m going with her!’ Hamish drew himself up to his full height.

‘No, you’re not.’ Bill was already heaving himself into the ambulance, ‘They can only take one of us and I’m her midwife, so I’m going…..bring the car and come behind.’

 

#

They were waiting before the ambulance arrived, Hamish nervously pacing, Angus pale and quiet by the doors.

Bea was whisked off and as Hamish went to go after her Bill held him back, ‘She’s going into surgery. I need you to stay calm, alright? I ne…christ, you’re shaking. You didn’t drive over here like that?’

Hamish shook his head, ‘Angus did.’

‘Okay. Get some tea and I come and tell you when- ANGUS IS THIRTEEN!’

#

Sherlock eased himself into a seat, a gentle hand of Lestrade catching his elbow as he did. He gave the man a half-smile as he settled himself.

Six months ago when he’d offered to be a surrogate he hadn’t anticipated twins.

‘Twins? It’s never twins!’ Mycroft had blinked in shock.

‘It’s always bloody twins!’ Sherlock shouted in irritation, and then gaped at his brother until they both dissolved into laughter.

Now he was uncomfortable, irritable and exhausted. And there were still months to go.

It was almost two hours before Bill came back. He hadn’t been allowed in the room but he’d been able to get more information than anyone else. His face was pale and he moved straight to Hamish.

‘Mish, a word.’

Visibly shaking Hamish followed his father slightly down the corridor.

‘Is she-?’

‘I’m gonna be honest, she’s not good.She’s still holding in there but….look, she stopped breathing in the ambulance on the way here and…and they lost her twice during surgery. Now,’ he caught his son before his knees gave way completely, ‘Now, now! Listen, Hamish, are you listening?’

Hamish nodded, ‘I’m telling you because you’re her next of kin, right. But…but because you might need to make a decision if this goes wrong. They can’t fix the tear, not now, it’s too bad and she’s lost too much blood, so they are going to delivery the baby.’

‘What? But-’

‘I know.’ Bill took a deep breath, ‘They’re doing it now, emergency section. When it arrives I’ll go with it it down to NICU. You can stay here with Bea. Hamish?…..You’re gonna need to be strong enough for both of you right now, okay?’

Hamish nodded and as Bill turned away Hamish reached out and pulled his father back, hugging him tightly. He was about to speak when there was the sound of a door and then two nurses running with an incubator. Bill pressed a kiss to the top of Hamish’s head and took off after them, already reaching for the file one of them held towards him.

#

Bill text updates every few minutes. Literally. And it was the only thing keeping any of them calm. Hamish was staring down at his phone when he felt a cool hand on his wrist.

‘There is no person I would trust with my child more than William Murray.’

Hamish looked up at Sherlock and nodded, ‘Me too…..I have a child!’

Sherlock smiled softly, that smile he reserved for those he really cared about, ‘Yes you do.’

Hamish scrubbed at his eyes determined he wasn’t going to cry, especially not with Angus sitting just feet away who would never let him live it down, regardless of the circumstance.

‘Lock,’ he said suddenly, looking up, ‘You’re a grandad!’

‘WHAT???’

#

They hadn’t seen Bill since he went to NICU, but the midwive was clearly weaving some strange magic from there. First it was the arrival of the nanny, Ingeberg, trailing with her Kovačić, Mycroft’s Croatian bodyguard. Kovačić handed Sherlock a tupperware box with a curt nod, ‘YaYa made you Češnovka and dumplings.’

There was something that was almost resentful about the voice he used, and then he nodded to the others assembled.

‘What about the rest of us?’ Angus piped up.

‘I have shaslik, bombay potatoes and three kids of bread…’ Bill’s father Dick strode through, carrying two huge bags of take away.

‘I brought the forks!’ Came another voice and they realised that Mrs Hudson was following, and so was….everyone else.

‘Mrs Turner’s keeping an eye on Green Bean, he was a bit unsettled so they are going to watch Bergerac until Nana Blisset can get back from Dorest, she’s on the train now and that lovely Anthea is going to pick her up and take her straight over. And I called Mrs Ripley and she’s going to sort the morning.’

From behind Mrs Hudson six other children materialised and immediately swarmed to Hamish. 

Sherlock stood, one hand on his stomach and the other clutching the box of sausages and watched. He had seen many things in his life. He’d watched the politics of bees and sharks, he’s seen every type of gang and criminal and group imaginable. And yet his own children still had the power to bring him to his knees.

The Firm.

They didn’t talk, there were a few hand gestures that might have been sign language, but it was too quick and too sloppy for Sherlock to tell, and then nods, and Allegra and Jean-Chrisophe hugged Hamish tightly.

And the silence…..

And so they sat. One, huge family, waiting. They ate the food, relayed every update from Mrs Ripley about her ETA, including the ones sent from the passenger seat of Anthea’s car (‘oh God we’re gonna die!’), the twins fell asleep leaning against each other, and then Allegra and Vivienne, tucked up using Sherlock’s ridiculous coat as a blanket. Ingeberg had done run after run for tea and coffee, and Dick had and Angus were on their fifth sudoku. And every 2 minutes phones chimed with an update from Bill.

And then……

‘Mr Holmes-Murray?’

Hamish was on his feet instantly as the doctor approached, ‘Yes. Is she-’

‘Your wife is in recovery,’ the doctor glanced around, seeming to notice the crowd for the first time, but then she shrugged and turned back to Hamish, ‘You can see her soon. I’ll have someone let you know when she’s awake.’

This time Hamish’s legs didn’t hold him and he fell. It was the warm, rough hands of his uncle Greg who caught him, pulling him close.

‘She’s okay,’ Greg said.

‘I…I…I love her….so…much.’ Hamish gasped.

Greg nodded into his nephew’s hair, ‘That’s what those Holmes’ do to you.’

#

‘You look like shit!’

Bea managed a smile, ‘Thanks for that Margot!

‘Angus said they had to almost cut you in half - can we see?’

Beatrice tried not to laugh because it hurt too much, ‘As soon as I get the feeling back I’ll show you.’

‘Brilliant!’ Manus and Jean-Christophe breathed.

‘Hey Bumble-Bea!’ Bill navigated his way into the room which was full of children all trying to climb on the bed beside Beatrice.

‘Where’s-’

‘He’s still in NICU with…with….’ Bill shrugged, ‘What are you going to call her anyway?’

‘Her?’ heads jerked around to stare at Bill.

‘Ummm, she’s been here for nearly fourteen hours now. Weren’t any of you reading my updates…..?’

Angus narrowed his eyes, then drew himself up to his full height and stared at his father.

‘Be honest with us…..is…..is she ginger?’

On the bed beside him Beatrice started to laugh, then stopped as her stitches pulled.

‘.…she’s…..on the….russet side.’Bill said.

Six heads turned to glare at Beatrice.

‘For fuck sake, Bea! You had one job!’

‘Alright,’ Bill stepped in and steered Maus away from his cousin, ‘And you too Angus, don’t think I don’t know what you’re signing at her. Everyone out!’

‘Can we come back later?’ Allegra asked quietly, her blue eyes huge and worried. Behind her Margot looked on the verge of tears.

‘Yeah, course. Just let Bea rest, alright?’

Beatrice was trying to push herself up when Bill turned around, ‘I want to go down there. I want to see her!’

‘I’ll get someone to take you down as soon as I can.’

‘Where’s Hamish?’

‘I’m here,’ a voice from the doorway. Bill looked up and nodded, collected his notes and left.

‘Is she-?’

‘She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!’ Hamish dropped into the seat by the bed and took Beatrice’s hand, ‘She’s so….perfect. I….I’m already in love with her!’

Beatrice said nothing, closing her eyes against the flood of emotion.

‘She’s amazing Bea….she’s….she’s tiny, so, so….tiny. But her fingers and…and….she looks just you-’

‘Ready?’ a voice asked from the doorway, and Hamish and Bea turned to see a porter waiting with a smile.

#

Hamish had been certain that the sight of his daughter was the most perfect thing he had ever seen…..and then he watched as a tiny hand curled around Beatrice’s finger and the redhaired woman started to cry.

‘Come here,’ he said softly, pulling Bea towards him, mindful of her discomfort and navigating the wheelchair the porters had insisted on.

One of the nurses on duty smiled at them, ‘You’ll be able to hold her soon…..have you got a name yet?’

Hamish looked to Bea. He’d not allowed himself to even think that he might be consulted, painfully aware that he wasn’t-

‘Artemis.’

Bea ran her thumb gently across the back of her daughters hand.

‘That’s nice,’ the nurse beamed, ‘What does it mean?’

‘.…safe.’ Hamish said, hardly daring to look at Beatrice.

‘She’s gonna have some mane of hair on her,’ the nurse went on, ‘Like her mum. Always wanted a big lock of red hair, myself,’ she checked her watched, ‘You’re not really supposed to be here any longer, but if I happen to take a tea break and you’re still hanging around without a porter to take you back up then that’ll be our little secret, right?’

She didn’t wait for a response, instead just nodded at Hamish and left.

In the silence Bea was deliberately not looking at Hamish.

‘...is it….is it…?’

‘It’s a perfect name!’ Hamish said, reaching out an cupping Bea’s face, ‘Artemis….what do you think her real name is?’

Bea laughed, ‘Guess we’ll find out tomorrow.’ she stroked her daughters hand one more time before pulling her own back though the opening in the incubator.

‘Artemis,’ she breathed, and then startled when Hamish took her hand.

‘Artemis…Wilhelmina.’

Hamish ducked his head, embarrassed, but Bea smiled broadly at him.

‘Artemis Wilhelmina….’ Hamish took a breath, far far too aware of all the conversations they hadn’t had, ‘Lestrade-Holmes’

‘Lestrade-Holmes-Murray.’ her soft voice corrected. Bea wound her long, cool fingers through his, ‘Right?’

‘Right.’

In her incubator, Artemis Wilhelmina (Parsnip) Lestrade-Holmes-Murray slept on, unaware of the excitement she had caused in her whole seven hours on earth, or how many tears had been shed by the people who were going to love her the most.


End file.
